


The Cold, the Dark, and the Survivor

by saibugs



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-19
Updated: 2019-08-05
Packaged: 2020-01-16 05:53:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 18,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18515245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saibugs/pseuds/saibugs
Summary: Frozen for a little over 200 years, Cristina Howard finds herself unwillingly thrown into a harsh, ruined world. But she has to find her son, and in order to do that, she'll need a LOT of help... or the Commonwealth Wasteland will take what little she has left.





	1. Prologue

The sunlight hurt her eyes.

It was bright. Too bright, brighter than the fluorescent lights in the Vault. She cringed away as the Vault elevator brought her to the outside, raising her arm above her head, squinting. As the elevator came to a half she stepped forward—stumbled, actually, for she was still so weak—and blinked a few times, trying to hasten her eyes’ adjustment to such harsh light.

As she looked at the town below, her home, sweet little Sanctuary Hills, she swallowed and almost fell to her knees in shock. Gone was the quiet little suburbia she knew, replaced with destruction, ruins, houses collapsed in on themselves. It was still quiet down there but a different, worse kind of quiet, the kind of quiet that strikes fear and despair into hearts. An empty, empty quiet.

 _It’s all gone_. Her home was gone and…

Cristina Elaine Howard was a woman out of time. She already knew that. She’d seen the date on her Pip-Boy. 210 years. A world not hers, yet here she was, thrust into it and on a mission. A mission she’d never dreamed she’d ever be on. For fuck’s sake she was a lawyer. She hadn’t ever touched a gun, or even used a knife for anything but cutting food.

She exhaled and turned away, squeezing her eyes shut. This was the hand that had been dealt to her, it seemed, and she had to take it… or die. Because she needed to find Shaun. Not for her sake, but for Shaun’s, and Nate’s.


	2. Chapter One

Her boots crunched under the rocks and dirt. Cristina kept her eyes down, her head low, and her pistol on her hip. The switchblade she’d found near the Vault was tucked away in a pocket. Her bag was heavy on her back, but without it, she would be lost. It was the only way she could carry food, water, medical supplies… necessities. Bullets, too, and bits and bobs.

It was a lonely world out here. Exploring Sanctuary Hills had only come up with more pain than her gentle heart could handle. Seeing Codsworth all messed up and in such a fragile state of mind had broken her, made her cry. She’d hugged him, told him she’d be back as soon as she could return, and had set out with his advice carrying her. Concord. Head to Concord, there were still people there, maybe they had seen Shaun and his kidnappers. She had to hope, anyway.

But even as she neared the Red Rocket, she wondered if this was a pointless endeavour. Sanctuary Hills was just there, behind her, still close enough for her to go back and live her life out alone without every finding out the truth, safe from the harsh reality of the wasteland of America… No. She couldn’t, and she knew it. She shook her head and looked forward, adjusting her bag’s strap, and headed over to the old service station. It was worth checking it for any supplies, or information, or even just a bed. She was tired, so tired, she hadn’t even realised before she’d left home.

What she didn’t expect to find was a dog.

A German Shepard, much like the one she and Nate had brought into their family. The very same one that had ended up running away a couple of months later because a visitor had left the gate open.

At first, she wondered if she was encroaching on someone else’s turf, and if she should keep going. But the dog barked when he noticed her and ran over as if he’d never seen another living being in his life. Nobody emerged from the Red Rocket.

Still hesitant, she knelt and let the dog sniff her hand. “Hey boy,” she cooed as he sniffed, then licked her fingers. She scratched under his chin, smiling. “No owner? Want to come with me?” she asked. She could use the companionship, that was for sure. She didn’t want to be alone out here. The dog barked and wagged his tail, licking her hand as she stood. He ran over to a discarded medkit, and sat beside it, looking expectantly over at Cristina as she approached and gathered the medical supplies. A couple of stimpaks. Not a lot, but they’d be useful in a pinch.

The rest of the Red Rocket was barebone. Scavengers had clearly been this way, had taken anything of use other than a couple of tools and some junk scattered around. The occasional molerat that had popped out of the ground had provided her with enough meat to feel slightly more comfortable, and with the dog at her side, she continued on her way. No bed.

She wondered what would get her first: a wasteland creature, or exhaustion. Her 10mm pistol was now constantly in hand, her switchblade still within easy reach in the event she ran out of bullets, which was likely, she only had about 20 left. She’d picked up a few more, but she had enough smarts to know they were for a different weapon.

As she walked, she studied her surrounds. It was all the same path she’d driven along so many times before, but it was all different. The grass was so dry, patchy. There were no leaves on the trees. The roads were crumbling and littered with the rusted hulls of cars and trucks and buses. All signs that this was no longer her world, that she was a stranger to it and its people. America was gone. This was the Wasteland. No, no… this was Nuclear Hell.

Concord was just as empty as Sanctuary Hills was, she discovered as she reached the small town. Houses were boarded up, and the few that weren’t had little in them. The dog took her to hidden things, like a stash of caps and a few medical supplies. But the skeletons around made Cristina sick to her stomach, and she didn’t spend long in any of the houses.

Further in town, the gunshots began to attract her attention, and she gasped before ducking into an empty, ransacked store. A laser sounded, and she peeked out of a window, looking towards the old Museum of Freedom. There were some rough men and women surrounding it, and on the balcony… a lone man, firing desperately.

_He needs my help_.

She armed her pistol and ducked out of the store, sheltering behind a wall of sandbags and peering over. One of the men was in range, and didn’t see her. With some difficulty she managed to take out his kneecap. The shot rang into the air, and the men and women yelled as they turned, their fellow collapsing before their eyes.

_Oh shit._

She ducked before they saw her, and they looked around as their fellow writhed on the ground and moaned in agony. She began to shake as she realised what she’d done. _I just shot someone!_

“Who’s there?!” yelled one of the men, his voice angry and dark. She locked up as it reminded her of things she desperately tried to suppress, and her fingers tightened on the 10mm. She had to be strong. Be brave. Be like her brother. Footsteps sounded, gravel crunching, closer and closer and—

The dog snarled and leapt out, his teeth sinking into the flesh of the man’s face. He screamed and stumbled back, tripping and hitting the ground, the dog savaging him even as he flailed and fought. Eventually he lay still, and the other men and women fired, one bullet getting a lucky hit. The dog yelped and crumpled, struggling to get up. A woman drew a knife and stalked over, her eyes shining with a dark, malicious glee.

“GET AWAY FROM HIM!”

Cristina leapt over the sandbags and shot the woman point-blank. While it wasn’t enough to kill her, the bullet sunk into the woman’s chest and made her stumble back, eyes wide, blood beginning to drip down her chin. Cristina ignored the danger in favour of her companion, quickly administering a stimpak. First aid training had come in handy after all, even if using stimpaks hadn’t been all too common for civilian folk before the bombs had fallen.

Three men grabbed her and shoved her to the ground. Once more Cristina locked up, unable to help herself as memories flashed unbidden and unwanted in her mind. A yell sounded and laser fire disintegrated one of her attackers, kicking her fight-or-flight response into gear. With a shaky hand and poor aim she lifted the gun and fired a few rounds, hitting one of the men in the gut and arm, and blowing the groin out of another. _Eesh, sorry_ , she thought as she managed to scramble away, the man on the museum’s balcony finishing them off for her.

That had been the last of them. Cristina went straight to the dog’s side. The stimpak was doing its job, she noted with some relief, and she said, “Stay,” before walking over to the museum and peering up at the man on the balcony. “Are you okay?!” she called to him.

“Thanks to you!” he called back, a worried smile on his face. She could see some relief, but there was a guarded nature to him. “Are you?!”

“I think so!” The dog licked her hand, and she looked down before scratching between his ears. Then she returned her attention to the man. “Are there any more?!”

“Yeah, inside! If you still want to help us, pick up that laser musket and hurry!” He disappeared back inside after pointing at a gun beside a corpse, and Cristina began to hear the telltale sounds of the musket. She took a deep breath. _If you still want to help us_ … She could just leave, she could abandon these strangers to their fate… but she needed their help.

“I’m going to get killed.” She knelt and grabbed the musket, picking up the fusion cells beside it. “I’m sorry,” she whispered to the dead man before arming her new gun and stepping inside. The shouting immediately grew louder, and terror gripped her heart as she began to weave her way through the museum. History she’d learned about many times over was told over the loudspeakers, only serving to reveal her presence in the museum with each entrance into a new room. Occasionally some more of those rough men and women would find her, but she managed to shoot most of them, albeit she struggled with the musket and resorted mainly to using her pistol. Some handy fragmentation grenades took out some men she couldn’t hope to shoot, while other times she had to hide in the dark and wait for the most opportune moment.

Her heart was beating out of her chest by the time she reached the top floor. She could hear a few men all but beating a door down, yelling for the people behind it to come out… and threatening that they would eventually get in. _That man is in there_ , she mused as she armed her gun. Four bullets left. She had to make them count.

The dog growled softly, and she looked over at him. “We’ll save them, boy,” she whispered, listening attentively to the footsteps coming nearer. As one of the men rounded the corner she fired, her aim true, right between the eyes. With a wet gurgle he collapsed, blood pooling under him as the other man yelled and fired at her. The pain of a bullet biting into her chest winded her, and she staggered as the dog barked and leapt out, crippling the man just enough for her to feebly take aim and fire.

If other men and women were in the building, they were not making it known. The museum descended into silence, and Cristina put a hand over her bullet wound before making her way over to the room. The door was open, and that man was peering out.

As she stepped in, Cristina saw five people. A married couple, an elderly woman, the man from the balcony, and someone attempting to hack into the terminal. Her chest hurt, it was hard to breathe.

The man from the balcony stepped forward. “Are you okay, ma’am?”

“I can’t breathe,” she wheezed. “Bullet got me in the chest. Hurts.”

He pulled a stimpak from a medkit on the table and quickly injected it into her arm. “There you go, that should fix you up.” The relief was almost instantaneous as the morphine took effect, and she could breathe a lot easier.

“Thank you. Are you guys alright?”

He nodded as he discarded the empty stimpak. “Man, if you hadn’t come when you had…” He trailed off, pursing his lips. “I’m Preston, Preston Garvey. Commonwealth Minutemen.”

“Minutemen?” she asked, her eyes widening. _Familiarity! Even if it’s not the same… they have to stand up for the same thing, right?_ “You’re a Minuteman? I’m relieved to see you, then!”

He blinked. “I’m… the last Minuteman, but it’s good to know someone’s glad to see us. What’s your name, ma’am?”

“Oh! It’s Cristina.” She smiled and extended her hand. “Pleased to meet you!”

He didn’t take it, looking down at it instead with a puzzled expression. “What… are you doing?”

Her hand fell to her side. “Uh… n… nothing. Sorry.” Her cheeks flushed. “Well, I’m glad you lot are okay. I should just go.” Nothing like embarrassing herself in front of strangers.

“No, no, please… you’re the first person we’ve met since Quincy that hasn’t turned us away or tried to kill us.” He furrowed his brows and set his musket down. “We… I hate to ask, but we need some more help, if you’re willing.”

“Of course.” She couldn’t ever turn away someone who needed her help. “What with?”

“I saw how you handled yourself out there. But there are more Raiders on the way. And we don’t really have the means to deal with them… well, we do, but…”

“But, we can’t use it.” The man at the terminal looked over, his eyes bright and cheerful. They caught the light only just, not enough for the others to notice. But Cristina did. “I’m Sturges, by the way.”

“Pleased to meet you.” She did not extend her hand this time. “So what’s this means, and why is it unavailable? Is it broken or something?”

“Outta juice.” He leaned on the table and crossed his arms. “Up on the roof, there’s an old pre-war Vertibird. Got a nice set of Power Armour up there too. Problem is… it’s empty, and you need the old FC down in the basement.”

“FC…?” Cristina furrowed her brows.

“Your standardised fusion core,” Preston helpfully explained. “High-powered, long-term nuclear battery. We know where one is, but we can’t get it.”

“Yeah, it’s locked behind a security gate, and hacking isn’t my strong point,” Sturges admitted.

Cristina knew what to do. “I’ll go get it. I’m good with computers. Just point me in its direction.”

“It’s in the basement.” Preston could not hide the relief in his voice. “Thank you, Cristina.”

She beamed, then left the group, the dog plodding after her and barking softly. She scratched his ears again then made her way down into the museum’s basement, tripping on the old floorboards and hitting the security grate hard. “Ow.”

She pulled herself up and rubbed her face before scooting over to the terminal. Hacking it was easy. The security door swung open, and the fusion core stared her right in the face. Now she had to figure out how to eject the stupid thing safely.

Once it was in her hand—heavy thing it was—she ascended and presented it to the group. “I got it!”

“Nice! That means you get dibs on the Power Armour.”

“…I don’t know how to use Power Armour.”

They heard shouting outside, and they nervously knew they could wait no longer. Pushing her reservations aside, Cristina went to head up to the roof, but the elderly woman’s bony fingers wrapped themselves around her wrist. “You.”

“Me?” She didn’t pull away. “What about me?”

“You… Your son… is alive.”

Her breath caught. _How does she know?!_ “My… Shaun… my baby… he’s alive…?! Where…?!”

“I do not know… but I can feel his energy…” She pursed her lips, her pale eyes meeting Cristina’s. “Be brave, Cristina. For there is something coming. And it… is… ANGRY…”

She wanted more information. Desperately. On both how to find her son and what was coming. But the shouting was growing closer, so Cristina gently pulled her wrist free and ran up to the roof.

The Power Armour was in poor condition. It was half-rusted, and honestly she didn’t think it would work. After collecting a holotape on a nearby table, she walked over and loaded the core into the back of the Armour. When it came to life, she almost cheered, but instead she pulled herself into it and let it enclose her.

First thought: _GET ME OUT OF THIS THING!!_

Second thought: _Okay, I can do this. I can do this. I can’t do this._ But she had to. Her eyes trailed to the minigun, and she stepped over, grabbing it and pulling. At first, it didn’t budge, but she was undeterred and pulled again, a bit harder this time. It came free of its stand and she stumbled back from the force, alarmed at the weight of the minigun. She could feel it even through the armour and the strength it was providing her.

“Hey, there’s someone up here!” a Raider yelled as he began to fire in her direction. She retaliated, shredding the man to her shock. _OH I’M SORRY!_ But she couldn’t hesitate. Jumping down from the rooftop, her new armour’s legs taking the brunt of the impact, she fired the minigun again and again, shredding all the Raiders that crossed her path. Preston supported her with his musket from the balcony.

“Gristle, we got a problem!” a Raider woman yelled moments before Cristina shredded her. An angry man fired at her, not scared, and she turned on him as the bullets bounced near-harmlessly off. As her minigun spun she moved closer, Gristle beginning to panic and backing off, but it was too late as she annihilated him. _Oh God. I’m so sorry, I wish this wasn’t happening!_

The ground began to shake and thunder, and she stopped as the Raiders began to scream and fire. She looked over as one of the sewer grates began to dent… from below. Preston shouted at Cristina to move, _move_! But she couldn’t, her eyes widening and a lump forming in her throat as the grate was shunted into the air and some _thing_ crawled out.

It roared, and Cristina dropped the minigun, paralysed.

“GET TO SAFETY!” Preston screamed as the monstrous thing took down the Raiders with ease. It was _huge_ , nine to ten feet tall if Cristina had to guess. It looked like some sort of overgrown, bipedal demon lizard, with ginormous razor-sharp claws and beady orange eyes. And as it focused on Cristina, she realised that it was mad. Very mad. And very hungry.

It roared once more and leapt towards her, crossing the distance between them in a few steps. She tried to run but it was too late; it snarled and pounced on her, its claws sinking into her armour. Her helmet was knocked off, and in her attempts to get it, she looked back up at the beast and its claw nicked her eyebrow. Pain bloomed in her face and she tried not to scream even as it began to pulse blood.

In desperation she began to struggle, and it tried to crack through the heavy steel. The full weight of the beast was on her back, crushing her. She could not reach the minigun. Her arm was too short even in the armour. _I’m screwed, I’m going to die, oh God I’m—_

As she shifted, the security baton she’d picked up in the Vault dug into her hip. She’d completely forgotten about it after picking up the 10mm…  after leaving the Vault…

It was her only chance.

She whipped it out and swung around as much as could, smacking the beast with the baton with all her might. And with some horror she watched as the flimsy glorified stick snapped on the lizard’s thick skin.

_Oh fuck my life…_

The dog attacked the monster. His teeth sunk into the lizard’s neck, and it roared as it flailed. Cristina yelped and covered her head, beginning to cry. Once the monster stumbled away, trying to get the dog off, Preston yelled, “GET THE MINIGUN!”

She looked up, and scrambled over to it, hearing the yelp of the dog. As she hefted it up she looked over and saw him be slammed down into the concrete. “DON’T HURT HIM!” she yelled, her voice cracking on the last word as she squeezed the trigger and the barrel spun. The monster turned and roared, then thudded towards her… just as the bullets began to fire. It stopped as it was fired upon, swatting and roaring, staggering closer. Cristina backed off, ducking into a nearby building as the gun began to overheat, the monster slamming into the wall and swiping at her. Its claws scraped against her armour and she cringed at the sound, firing again and again until finally…

As it collapsed to the ground, she sat down on a crate, shaking, unable to comprehend what had happened. “Wh-What was that?” she choked out. A whimper drew her attention and she looked over, shooting to her feet and rushing to the dog’s side when she remembered. “Doggy! Oh god sweetie are you okay?! Don’t worry I’m going to help you!” She struggled to get a stimpak out from her armour, but she managed to and injected him.

The dog whimpered, and she stroked his back as he whined and whimpered as the stimpak worked its magic.

Once he was back on his feet, the dog followed Cristina back to the museum. She couldn’t stop shaking, and gripped the minigun so tightly her knuckles were going white. Everything was beginning to hurt, and all her muscles were screaming at her. Her fusion core was running low and she was nearly out of ammo. But she was glad, at least, that she was alive. She could continue her mission, and… and those people were safe.

Just as she stood on the first step back into the museum, she crumpled, and blacked out.


	3. Chapter Two

Her head was throbbing as she opened her eyes. There was little light—the only source was a candle—and she was laying on a bed. She didn’t feel particularly well-rested, but she was better than she had been before she’d fought that… thing, whatever it had been.

Humming beside her alerted her to the presence of another, and she looked over to see Preston there, cleaning his musket. A short cough from her startled him, and he looked over before beaming. “Hey, you’re awake.”

“Wh…” Her throat was too dry to form anything more than sounds. He reached beside him and picked up a white can, cracking it before handing it over. She took it, nodded at him, and sculled it. Water dribbled down her chin but she didn’t care, she was that thirsty. When she set the can down, and wiped her mouth with her arm, she tried again. “What happened…?”

“You were pretty beat up in the fight.” He furrowed his brows. “You… You took on a Deathclaw. That isn’t an easy feat.” His eyes trailed to her forehead. “And apparently, the Power Armour beat you up too. Sturges is doing what he can to fix it, but…”

“It’s likely ruined,” she chuckled, throat dry. “That beasty—Deathclaw, you called it?—wrecked it. It’s screeeeeeewed.”

“Just a bit.” He looked over as Codsworth floated in, closely followed by the dog. “Ah, hello. Codsworth, was it?”

“That’s correct, sir,” the cheery Mr Handy said, his three eyes studying everything. Cristina was glad to see him, and see that the dog was intact. “Hello, Mum, good to see you alive and well~! I must say, though, you were in a right pinch back there!”

“I probably was, but I’m alive, and that’s what matters.” She sat up, flipping the blankets off her body and swinging her legs over the edge of the bed. “I still need to find Shaun, though, so I can’t just lay around in bed.”

“Mum, please, you need to rest—”

“Coddy, sweetie, I can’t do that.” The bandages around her head shifted and she blinked, reaching up and brushing her fingers against them. “Wh-What…?”

“You copped a nick from one of the Deathclaw’s claws,” Preston said, standing and picking a nearby hand mirror up. “Here, hold this, I’ll get those off you.” He reached over and pulled them off, letting them fall as the red wound on her eyebrow reflected in the mirror. Cristina swallowed, eyes widening as she reached up and ran her fingers over it. Preston watched her, studying her face, wondering what she felt. Codsworth floated over and nudged her, giving her support in his own way, and the dog whined, nuzzling her legs.

“That’s… one hell of a battle scar,” she mumbled, setting the mirror face down. “I guess I can’t let it bother me too much.”

“No. If anything, you’re lucky you only have that. Deathclaws are the embodiment of death. I say you can use that as a way to intimidate people into… not shooting you.”

“That’s something I have to worry about?” Cristina furrowed her brows and bit her lip. “Good grief, this world is… actually messed up.”

Preston studied her, but decided to leave it, just setting her equipment down on the end of the bed. “For when you’re ready to head out.”

Cristina nodded and picked the gear up, hefting her backpack on and holstering her 10mm. Her switchblade was tucked into the pocket of the bag, so she left it there, and looked between Codsworth and the dog. “Alright. Coddy, I want you to stay here, hold down the fort. Are the people from Concord here?”

“They sure are, Mum!”

“Then please help them with whatever they need.” She touched his body plating. “And stay safe. I’ll be back before you know it.”

The dog barked, wagging his tail, and she smiled at him. Preston laughed. “Dogmeat, don’t leave her side, okay?”

“Dogmeat?” Cristina laughed. “That’s his name?”

“Yeah, don’t know where he got it,” Preston laughed. “You be safe out there, okay?”

“I will. Try. I will try.” And with that, she set off, heading towards a location her Pip-Boy was registering: Diamond City.

* * *

The walk had been long, and filled with bloatflies, bloodbugs, and a woman named Trashcan Carla. Cristina hadn’t really seen many other people, sadly, although she was hoping that would change when she reached Boston’s outer suburbs. Before the bombs had fallen, when she’d been able to drive into the city, she’d had the radio loud and pumping, but now she was too frightened to even set it on her Pip-Boy. She had no idea what was out here, if another one of those Deathclaws was lurking, or if something somehow _worse_ was waiting for her behind the next rock or car.

Dogmeat was constantly by her side, sniffing out things for her to search or leading her over to interesting things. Thus far, they’d found a couple of stimpaks, some food and water, and a few extra bullets. Most of the bullets they’d found were .45 ammunition, so Cristina was considering—if she could—picking up a rifle. _Will serve me better than a damn handgun_. Of course, that was if she ever reached Diamond City.

As the sun rose higher into the sky, the Pip-Boy began to pick up a radio signal. She blinked and peered down at it, noticing it was marked as a distress signal. She stopped walking. Her mind began to whir. She could go and help these people in distress… and in return, perhaps they would help her find Shaun.

She flicked to her Pip-Boy’s map and checked where the signal was coming from. Cambridge. The police station. “Alright, boy, let’s go,” she murmured to Dogmeat, who gave a happy bark in response and trotted along after her.

The closer she got to Cambridge, the closer the sound of laser fire became. Her eyes widened and she crouched, sneaking over to the back alley that took her direct to the station. She could hear growling and inhuman groaning, and her brows furrowed as she peered around the barricades that had been set up.

A man wearing black Power Armour was firing as fast as he could at a bunch of… zombies? They looked like zombies. Dogmeat growled and went to rush out, but Cristina grabbed his fur gently and shook her head. She took in the scene: the man in armour, protecting a wounded man in a skin-tight orange suit and a woman tending his injuries. The zombie people just kept coming, even as their extremities were blown off or they were turned to ashes.

 _I have to help them!_ She ran out without thinking, ripping her 10mm from its holster and firing at one of the zombies that shambled towards her.

“Civilians on the perimeter! Watch your fire!” the man in the armour yelled as he fired over her head. The zombies groaned and one clawed down her arm, tearing the bright blue Vault suit open. She yelled and shot it once, twice, three times in the head, then took down another with Dogmeat’s help.

Her breath was short when the zombies finally stopped coming, and she looked over to see the man in the armour staring at her, his deep brown eyes stern and cautious. She approached carefully, slipping her pistol back in its holster before raising her hands and asking, “You okay?”

“Thanks to you.” His tone took her by surprise. It wasn’t necessarily cold and aggressive, like she’d expected him to affect. Rather, it was warm and husky, filled with gratitude but also edged with a warning. “However, forgive me for saying, but you must be either stupid or brave to come running in here with little more than a dog and a 10mm.”

“Both.” She looked over at the pair on the steps of the police station, but she also caught something in her periphery, and when she turned to face it her heart sank. A dead soldier was hanging off the walkway. “Oh God…”

“May Steel guide him.” Danse walked over to his surviving two men and knelt beside the wounded one. Cristina watched from where she was, unable to hear them speak, and blinked when Danse stood and approached once more. “Come inside, please. I wish to speak with you.”

“Ah… okay…” She was reluctant, but watched the three soldiers enter, the wounded one affecting an obvious limp. Dogmeat licked her hand, calming her, and she swallowed before entering.

The Cambridge Police Station brought back memories she wanted to quash, and her breath caught in her throat. So much of her childhood had been spent here, with her mother and brother… She shook her head and noted the three were staring at her. The man in armour had steely eyes despite their warm brown, and she almost blanched under his gaze. But she didn’t.

“Are you well, miss?”

“I’m okay. Okay as I can be. Place brings up stuff.” She furrowed her brows. “Sorry, doesn’t matter. What did you want to talk about?”

“I’d like to ask for your help, if you are willing.”

“A soldier? Needing my assistance?”

His lips pursed. “Yes, although it seems an odd request. My Brother and Sister here are in no condition to assist; Knight Rhys is wounded, and Scribe Haylen… I cannot lead her into a dangerous place without knowing I am completely able to protect her.”

Cristina furrowed her brows. “Where do we need to go?”

“ArcJet Systems.”

“Why…?”

“Scribe, can you explain?” He looked over at her.

Haylen smiled. “Sure can, sir.” She came over and stood beside the soldier. “We are in need of a deep signal transmitter, something I’ve been able to track to ArcJet. So we can get some help from our Family back in the Capital Wasteland.”

Cristina nodded. “Sure, I’ll help you. On one condition.”

“And that would be?” There was that caution again, but there was an edge this time.

“You help me, too.”

“We would not be Brothers and Sisters of Steel if we did not assist those who needed us. We would be glad to help.” He peered at her. “But what assistance would a Vault Dweller need from us?”

“I’ll tell you later, after we get your… thingymabob.”

The soldier’s lips set into a thin line, and Cristina saw him suppress a sigh. “Of course. Before we depart, you should prepare yourself. Take whatever you need.”

“Of course… um…?”

“Ah. Right. I am Paladin Danse.”

“Cristina. Pleased to meet you.” She moved away and began to search around in some of the rooms, picking up whatever she knew she could make use of. She also collected a spare holotape or two, and some ammunition. In the evidence locker she found some clothing, and she donned them, disappointed that she had to discard her Vault suit but relieved at the same time. It made her stick out like a sore thumb.

When she stepped out, Danse looked her up and down before nodding. “Better. You fit in more.”

“Thanks for not telling me I was basically walking around with a neon sign strapped to my body.”

He simply ignored the jab and grabbed his gun. “Are you ready to set out?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” she sighed, making sure her gun was still on her hip. Danse said nothing else as he left the station, and Cristina could do little else but follow along. She just had to hope she didn’t die on this insane mission…


	4. Chapter Three

“This place is a mess,” Cristina mumbled under her breath as she and Danse sorted through the absolutely astounding amount of junk. They had been making their way through ArcJet slowly, searching every corner, every computer, every desk and trash can and container they could, and they still hadn’t found a damn deep range transmitter. The fact they knew they weren’t alone in this place only made the pair more cautious, although so far Cristina hadn’t yet seen these ‘synths’ Danse had spoken so negatively about.

“Let’s go further down,” Danse lamented as he searched through the last of the filing cabinets. “That transmitter has to be here _somewhere_ …”

Cristina agreed, and checked her pistol before following him further down. Danse’s Power Armour hissed and whirred with each step, clunking together as he rounded corners and strode purposefully down lengthy corridors. Cristina’s courage was abandoning her with each second, but she refused to flee, not while she still needed Danse’s help.

“Halt!” Danse’s hiss stopped Cristina in her tracks, and she peered around him to see strange metal men patrolling a room. Danse clicked the safety of his rifle off and aimed, staring down the scope at the metal men. They were turning the room upside down, and Cris wondered what they were looking for. Danse seemed to know: “Damn it, I should have guessed the Institute would be here.”

“The Institute…?” she whispered back.

He explained as briefly as he could. Something clicked in the back of her mind, and she wondered… _Could Shaun have been taken by these people?_ But she didn’t ask, pulling her pistol out and following Danse as he snuck towards the door.

It was a pity one of the synths turned and Cristina caught its eyes.

It wasn’t the abrupt detection that made her scream. It was the piercing yellow, the inhuman nature of those eyes that seemed to hold life and intelligence but at the same time did not. Danse yelled as the synths opened fire, pulling Cristina behind him and firing as quickly as he could. His shots were truer than those of the synths, and soon, metal scrap and ashes littered the room. Then he turned on her.

“What was that?”

“I panicked.”

“You don’t appear to have seen a synth before, I’m guessing.”

“You would be guessing correctly,” she admitted. “That thing…”

“That thing, exactly. That abomination.” The venom dripping from his tone made Cristina want to shrivel and turn into dust. She watched him as he kicked a door down and grunted. “Damn it.”

“What?” She strode over and noticed a locked door. “Oh, we should be able to get through that…”

“If we can find a release for this lock.” Danse examined the door. “Look around.”

Cristina spotted the terminal, and made her way over. Booting it up, she noticed it struggled a little, as if it hadn’t been used in centuries. _It probably hasn’t_ , she reminded herself as she sat on the chair in front of it and tried to hack into it. It was a breeze for her—she had a lot of practice—and she managed to unlock the door that way.

Danse turned to face her as it swung open. “Good work, civilian.”

“Thank you.” She stood and walked over, following him inside, pleased with her own abilities.

* * *

“The Scribes would have a field day in here,” Danse mused as he and Cristina walked down the stairs. His eyes never left the jet engine suspended in the centre of the chamber, and Cris wondered how in the world he didn’t fall down the stairs. “I’ll have to mark this location for sweep and retrieve after we’ve cleared it out.”

“There’s… nobody in here?” Cristina asked as she looked up at the jet, praying to whatever higher power was listening it didn’t switch on. “I’m going to explore, if you need my help just sing out.”

“Understood.”

Cristina pulled away and walked into a separate room. She could hear whirring, and peered around a corner to find an active generator with a fusion core slotted inside. She hurried over and extracted it, easily able to use it for her own Power Armour back at Sanctuary… or another set if she found one. The terminal attracted her attention, and she rerouted the auxiliary power to the engine… although she didn’t really know why she did that. She also located a strange gun, and picked it up before yelling attracted her attention.

She sprinted out and yelled as she saw a sea of synths closing in on Danse. He noticed her out of the corner of his eye and yelled, “HIT ANY BUTTON YOU SEE! HIT ANYTHING!” So she obliged, slapping her hands down on every button she could… including the big red one she had been reluctant to touch.

The doors sealed, and locked her in. A voice came over the intercom and announced a test of the engine suspended above the battle in front of her. “DANSE!” she screamed as it counted down, but he didn’t appear to be able to hear her as the engine began to fire.

The heat blasted her through the window, and she stumbled back, covering her face. Danse yelled in pain and collapsed to his knees. She squeezed her eyes shut, not wanting to see him get reduced to dust.

When the engine died, she looked up and saw him on his knees, gasping for air, but alive! She sprinted out and ran over to him, her heart in her throat. “Oh my God are you okay?!”

“Got… cooked by those… flames,” he managed. “But… my Power Armour… kept me… intact.” He pushed himself to his feet, stumbled a bit, and shook his head. “Let’s keep going…”

“I didn’t find the thingy,” Cristina admitted.

“Not an issue. That lift over there is operational now, while it wasn’t before.”

She headed over to it and hit the call button, waiting as it descended the shaft. Danse stayed beside her, his armour radiating heat, and she almost stepped away. Almost. As the door slid open he gestured for her to go first, and she nodded before stepping in. He stepped in and hit the button, and the elevator ascended until it was in a new room, full of synths.

Danse sprinted out of the room, shouting as he opened fire. The synths whipped around and fired, but they were no match for Danse and his rapid fire. One synth made towards an elevator on the other side of the room, and Cristina shot its knee out. It faceplanted the wall and tried to crawl away, but Danse put it down and the battle was won.

“Can you see the transmitter anywhere?” he asked as he looked around. “Maybe search the bodies over there. I’ll search these ones.”

“Got it.” She walked over to the one who’d attempted escape and found some technology she didn’t understand. _This has to be it!_ She stood and called, “I think I found it!” As Danse looked over she held it up, and he nodded.

“Excellent work. Now, let’s get outside, and we can talk further.”

They headed outside. Cristina had never been more glad to feel the breeze on her face, but she followed Danse and stopped when he turned to her. She could see relief, minor disdain, and surprise in his eyes, but none of it showed on his face.

“Well, that was… not the best work ever, but I must say, I am impressed with how you handled yourself in there.”

“How I handled myself? I hacked a few terminals and picked a few locks, you did most of the shooting.”

“Still, without you, I would likely be dead.”

“And you were almost dead with me, too. That jet engine…”

He raised his hand. “It matters not. What counts is that we retrieved the transmitter, and we are both alive. I’d like to compensate you for your trouble, so here, take this.” He held out his own rifle.

Cristina stared. “I can’t take that.”

“I insist.”

“But you won’t have a weapon?”

He pulled an identical one from somewhere in his armour. “I have an issued spare. Besides, I’d rather you have mine. You need it more than I.” He gazed pointedly at her 10mm as he spoke.

Dogmeat barked beside her, and she blinked. “Hello, boy.”

“Did you leave him at the door?”

“Yeah. Figured it might be safer.” She chuckled, and took the gun, swapping it for the transmitter. “Thank you, Danse. It’s appreciated.”

He nodded. “I would also like to offer you a place within the Brotherhood’s ranks.”

She stopped. The Brotherhood would be able to assist her… but at the same time… “I… I’m sorry, Danse. I’ll have to decline.”

Disappointment flashed in his eyes. “I see. Well, in any case, my offer stands. You are welcome to take me up on it at any time.” He thought on something. “Now, you said you needed assistance once you assisted us?”

“I…” For some reason, she couldn’t bring herself to say it anymore. “I did, but… but maybe it’s best if I didn’t bug you with it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.” She gave a weak smile. “It’s fine, Danse. I’ll… I’ll figure it out myself.”

He doubted this. “Alright, but the Brotherhood would be honoured to assist you.” He said nothing more as he turned and left, leaving her to mull over her decision. Dogmeat whined and licked her hand, and she scratched his ears in turn, wondering if she should have asked…


	5. Chapter Four

“This isn’t Diamond City.”

Cristina checked her Pip-Boy for what had to be the twentieth time, exasperated as she looked up at the bright, neon sign saying ‘GOODNEIGHBOR’. The map icon was close but she’d run in the wrong direction trying to get away from those massive, monstrous green people, and now she was lost. Apparently at a place called Goodneighbor.

“Well, might as well go in, least I can get something to eat,” she mused to herself. She was hungry, and hyper-aware of it. The laser rifle strapped to her back was out of ammo, and she’d been fighting with just her 10mm. Which… had done absolutely nothing against those mutant green men.

She stepped inside the gate, and noticed a few people in the shops. But she took more notice of the man approaching her, and it took all her willpower not to pull her gun out, frightened. Especially as the man leered at her and grinned. “Wow, pretty lady like you would need insurance in a town like this.”

Cristina raised an eyebrow. “Insurance…? What are you talking about?”

“Give me all your caps, and you won’t be attacked, is what I’m talking about.”

Cristina shook her head. “No way, I’m not giving you my money.” She set a hand on her gun as someone—a ghoul wearing clothes from the Civil War days—stepped out of an alleyway and observed the situation. The man took a single step towards Cristina and she raised her gun, cocking it and shaking her head. “Don’t come any closer.”

“Finn,” the ghoul mused, stepping over and drawing attention. “C’mon, man, don’t be like this. All are welcome in Goodneighbor.” He seemingly went to put his arm around Finn’s shoulders, but Cristina saw the glint just as the ghoul stabbed the man repeatedly. Bile rose in her throat and she took a single step backwards. Finn hit the deck, and the residents milling about simply looked over. _How could they be unperturbed?!_

The ghoul turned to her and went to ask a question, but she shook her head and sat on a chair, covering her face. He approached and squat down in front of her, waiting for her to react to his presence—she jumped and blinked when she noticed—before asking, “You good?”

“Yeah, fine.” She pursed her lips. “Thanks for… getting rid of him, I suppose.”

He grinned. “No problem-o,” he replied, missing the disdain in her tone. “Hey, go to the Third Rail. Have a drink on me, yeah?”

“Sure.”

He gave her finger guns and walked off. She stared after him, baffled and upset, before deciding to take the drink. She wasn’t a big drinker but one couldn’t hurt… or, well, it could, she didn’t know.

She stepped down into the building and nodded at the bouncer as she strode past. The bar itself smelled of smoke, booze and stale sweat. The air was filled with soft jazz, chatter from patrons, and the hissing of the bartender’s thruster. She stepped over, taking a seat at the bar, and waited for service. The bartender’s eye looked over at her. “What’ll it be?” he asked, voice gruff and with a slightly different accent than her own Mr. Handy.

“Just a beer, please.”

It was pushed over to her. “On the house,” the bartender confirmed, floating away to deal with a drunk patron demanding another round of shots. Cristina didn’t open it, instead taking it away from the bar and looking around a bit. There was a red lit room off to the side, which she could hear faint arguing, and her curious nature made her unable to leave it be. She stepped over and peered in to see three men, one sitting down, the other two standing. She didn’t understand what they were on about, however, but…

One of the men spotted her, and grimaced. “We’ll be back, _Robert_.” The pair departed, one of them slamming shoulders with Cristina. She hissed and stumbled, watching him go in shock.

The man sitting down—Robert—raised an eyebrow at her. “Look, lady. If you're preaching about the Atom, or looking for a friend, you've got the wrong guy. If you need a hired gun... then maybe we can talk.”

“Uh… I was just looking around. Sorry. Um… but actually, how much do you work for?” _A bit of protection could be nice…_ She pulled out her caps purse. “Here… I need some help, and… well… you can have all my caps.”

“You’re weird.” It seemed to amuse him; she saw a smile on his face. “But sure, I’ll work for you.” He took the purse, and counted out a fee, before handing the rest back. Cris noticed it was steep, but she said nothing. A mercenary in this world was a good thing… right? Hopefully, he wouldn’t betray her. “So. What are we doing?”

“I’m trying to get to Diamond City, but I got lost on my way here.”

“Travelling on your own?”

“No, I was with my dog—Dogmeat—but I didn’t want him to get hurt so I sent him to where I live.”

“Ah, I see.” He stood, dusting his jacket off and collecting the rifle nearby. “Alright. I’ll lead you there.”

* * *

Diamond City was not as… interesting as Cristina thought it would have been. She and her newly-hired gun had walked in silence, mostly avoiding any battles. Instead, they’d taken back alleys and roads abandoned by civilisation. The only thing they’d encountered was a horde of ghouls, but a bit of waiting had allowed them to pass by without gaining the ghouls’ attentions.

“This is Diamond City?” Cristina asked as they approached the gates.

“Yep. The Great Green Jewel.”

“It’s a baseball stadium.”

Robert peered at her, raising an eyebrow. “You said you’ve never been to Diamond City. How’d you know?”

“Because I’ve been to the stadium before it was Diamond City.” She noticed a woman by an intercom, and heard Robert grumble behind her as she approached. The woman was arguing with someone on the other side, and Cristina realised they were all locked out.

The woman saw her, and a mischievous glint shone in her eye. “Hey, got a trader from up near Quincy here! You wouldn’t want to deal with Myrna if she loses out on enough gear to stock the store for a month~!”

Cristina blinked. “Eh?” She looked at the intercom as someone grumbled, and the gate jolted before sliding open.

The woman grinned and turned to her. “You can thank me later.”

“You used me. That’s not okay.”

The woman furrowed her brows and pursed her lips. “You needed in, right?”

“While that’s true, I don’t appreciate being used like that.” She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. Thanks for the quick thinking, at least.”

The woman grinned, then walked into the gates. Cristina made to follow, but Robert muttered, “That lady’s trouble. Just be careful, okay?”

“Okay.” She walked inside, and saw the same woman once more, talking to a man. Or, well, arguing. She stopped dead, looking at the man. Something about him rubbed her the wrong way… she could hear something to his voice that the woman and Robert—and the guards spattered around—appeared to miss. Was that… a slight roboticism?

The man turned to her. “Ah, visitors! Welcome to Diamond City, the Great Green Jewel of the Commonwealth!” He beamed, but Cristina’s stomach sank. Danger. That smile said danger. “What brings you to our beautiful city?”

“I need help finding someone,” Cristina replied, doubting whether she should say too much. Robert, if he was surprised, did not show it.

“Ah, well, I’m sorry, but we don’t have the guards to spare. I… am sorry, but… who are you looking for?”

 _Why do you want to know if you can’t help anyway?_ Cristina wanted to say. Instead, she said, “My son. He’s only a baby.”

Robert looked at her, his eyes and face betraying nothing. The man furrowed his brows. “Well, in that case… the guards cannot be spared, but we do have a private eye in town. You may be able to seek help from him.”

 _Finally, some good news!_ “Thank you. I’ll be sure to do that.” She went to enter the city, but the woman grabbed her arm, and she jumped before looking over. “Can I help you?”

“Come by my office later.”

“Huh?”

She received no explanation as the woman entered the city, the man disappearing via an elevator. Robert still remained silent as he followed Cris into the central business district, but as they descended the stairs… “Your son was kidnapped?”

“Yes,” she sighed. “Stolen right in front of me. My husband was killed that day.”

“Any reason you didn’t do anything?”

“I… just couldn’t.”

Wisely, Robert dropped the conversation. Memories of that day—or night, Cris didn’t know—flashed unbidden in her mind’s eye, and she attempted to quash them lest she begin to cry.

They passed a little girl waving a newspaper around. Cristina peered at it, then walked over and asked, “Excuse me, but may I have a copy?”

“Sure, miss, you need to stay informed!” She thrust the paper into Cris’s hands, and she blinked as she noticed _THE SYNTHETIC TRUTH_ written on them. _More synths?_ she asked herself, thanking the girl before returning to Robert’s side. She flipped through the pages, confused as she read the scripture. _Synths, Institutes, kidnappings… what in the world is going on in Massachusetts these days?_ She shoved the paper in her backpack just as her stomach growled.

Robert snorted. “You hungry?” he joked. “Come on, there’s a good noodle place over this way.”

She followed, and blinked as she saw the Protectron stirring the pot. As if this wasn’t confusing enough, as she approached, a woman looked over and said, “Just say yes.”

“Wha?”

“Just say yes. It’s all he understands.”

Cristina blinked. “Erm. Okay?”

“Hey, Taka!” Robert grinned as he leaned on the bench. “How’s business?”

“Nan-ni shimasu-ka?”

“Did… Did you just speak Japanese?”

Robert snorted as the Protectron repeated his question. Cristina blinked several times and attempted to get something else out of him, to the amusement of the other patrons. When she finally said, “Yes?” the Protectron gave her a bowl of noodles. She could only stare at it for several minutes before whispering, “What the fuuuuuck…”

Robert snickered. “Takahashi is busted. That’s all he understands and he just sells noodles.”

She set her bowl on the bench and grabbed some nearby chopsticks. “Okay, it’s official, Massachusetts went to shit.”

“Massachusetts?” He leaned beside her, squinting. “What’s that?”

“Another name for the Commonwealth,” she replied. While not technically a lie… it showed her just how little the wastelanders remembered about the time before. How many pre-war bloodlines had survived, minus those from the Vaults…?

Cristina realised that the world she had come from was gone. More than gone: it was history, forgotten by time, and forgotten by most.


	6. Chapter Five

Cristina crossed her ankles as she sat in the office, watching the woman—Piper, she’d introduced herself before—flit about and gather a tape recorder, paper, and pens. Robert sat nearby, watching everything with a cold aloof expression, not particularly interested but not bored either.

“So, Blue.”

The nickname took Cris by surprise, and furrowed her brows. “Blue? Where’d that nickname come from?”

“You may not be wearing the blue suit, but that Pip-Boy? You’re a Vaultie.”

“You make that sound like a bad thing.” She laid her free hand over her Pip-Boy unconsciously. “Yes, I came from a Vault.”

“I knew it!” Piper threw herself onto the couch and grinned. “Okay, so, I wanted to ask you a few questions. Since you’re new here, and you’ve never been to Diamond City before, I wanted an outsider’s perspective onto the city and the world in general.”

 _This is a waste of my time_ , Cristina wanted to say, but instead she nodded.

“What was your time like inside the Vault?”

The question was one Cristina had hoped she could avoid out here, and she gripped her Pip-Boy just that little bit tighter. She had to be honest… People needed to know about Vault-Tec and their crimes, even if they no longer existed out here. “I don’t… recall too much. I was frozen for most of it.”

Piper’s pen stopped scratching on the paper, and she peered up at Cristina. Robert looked over as well, tilting his head slightly. “Wait… you entered the Vault, and you were frozen?”

“That’s right. According to my Pip-Boy, and my old Mr Handy, it’s been a little over 210 years.” She wanted to shrink into the back of her chair at the two gazes. _Please stop staring at me._

“Wow… okay, so that leads me to my next question. How do you think the Commonwealth compares to life… before?”

Cristina considered this. “It’s… a lot more ruined than I remember, but I look at it and I feel hope. Everyone’s still surviving, still trying to live despite everything. The people can be much rougher, and there’s… things that I’m going to struggle to adjust to, but I think there’s hope for the world.”

Piper nodded, writing some notes down. “Now, you mentioned to McDonough before that you were looking for your son.” Her tone changed, and Cristina swallowed at the sadness. “Do you think… the Institute is responsible?”

There it was again: the Institute. Danse had mentioned this before, but not once had she considered they could be responsible. “I honestly don’t know. From what I read in the paper, it’s possible, but I have to keep an open mind for now.”

Her answer was scribbled down, and Piper nodded. “Alright, last question: what would you say to a person who’s lost a loved one, but is too scared to look for them?”

“Don’t give up hope. I know it’s hard, and there is every possibility you may never find them, or you may find them dead. But never give up. There is every chance they’re still alive, still out there, still hanging onto hope that you’re coming for them.” Her heart was heavy as she answered, and she was trying not to tear up. Robert pulled himself from his chair and strode over as Cristina and Piper rose. Piper was sombre.

“Thank you for that. The issue will be out tomorrow. And… if you need help finding your son… the guards are useless anyway, you wouldn’t want their help, but go talk to Nick Valentine.”

“Nick Valentine?”

“Yeah, he’s the town’s private eye.”

Cristina nodded. “Thank you for your help, Piper.” She and Robert left the office and headed towards the private eye’s office.

As they walked… “No wonder you’ve been to Diamond City before it was the city,” Robert said, looking at her from the corner of his eye. “You probably watched a few games of baseball, yeah?”

“Nah, I was never interested in it. I watched one, once, and never came back.”

He laughed. “Was it bloody? Brutal?”

She looked at him in abject horror. “E-Excuse me?!” Her voice was just a tad too loud; passersby looked over with raised eyebrows. She cringed under the scrutiny and hissed, “Bloody? Brutal? Baseball’s none of that! People just hit balls and run around a pitch.”

Robert furrowed his brows. “Only stories I’ve ever heard of baseball, they lobbed balls at each other at incredible speeds and the aim was to try and hit someone with the ball and seriously wound them.”

Her face paled. “This world is fucked, man.”

Robert said no more, and they walked to the office in relative silence. By the time they got there, sadly, it was dark and everyone was going to bed, so Cristina decided to ask, “Is there a place we can get a room for the night?”

“Yeah, the Bobrovs have rooms to rent.”

She didn’t question this as he led her to the Dugout Inn. It wasn’t too busy, but there were a few tough looking characters inside, and fear coiled in her gut. Considering they all stared at her. Because she was taller she couldn’t exactly hide behind Robert, either, so she kept her head down as they walked over to a man leaning against a wall. Robert did most of the talking, asking for a room with two beds, and paying up.

Once they were inside, “So… what was life like before… all this?” Robert asked, gesturing at the room they were sitting in. Cristina knew he meant the Commonwealth. “Was it nice?”

“It… was, somewhat.” Cristina sighed and set her gun down, shaking her head. “There were issues with it, issues in my own life too, and war was always on the horizon. The government was messed up, the military basically did what the government wanted—with some rather opinionated people speaking up every so often—and the world was going to shit. We were running out of resources faster than people were led to believe.”

He didn’t appear to understand. “It wasn’t… idyllic, as the old ghouls say?”

“Fuck no.” She rubbed her face, wincing as the gash on her eyebrow stung. “But I will say it was monumentally better than here.”

He noticed the wound as he sat on his bed. “Where’d you get that? Seems relatively fresh.”

“Some big ass lizard monster gave it to me.”

“Wait… wh… you fought a deathclaw and survived?! You?!”

“I don’t know whether to be offended by that or not.” She sighed. “I’m going to catch some shuteye. It’s been a long day.”

Robert nodded. “Night, then.”

“Night.”

* * *

Cristina shot bolt upright, her chest tight, gasping for air. She shook as she clutched at the blankets, not knowing that she’d roused her companion from his sleep. Blearily he looked over at her, blinked a few times as he noticed her distress, but didn’t ‘wake up’ in time as Cris jumped out of bed and shot out of the room. She fled the Dugout without her gun, without her pack, without anything, instead managing to find somewhere… quiet. And it was at the edge of a pool of water that she sat, trembling, her heart hurting and her mind racing.

Robert joined her after some time had passed, and sat beside her, not saying a word. She was curled into a ball, her legs tucked tightly to her body, her arms around her knees. She stared at the water, or rather right through it, staring right into nothing.

“You good?” the mercenary said after a few beats.

“No.” She swallowed. “No I’m not.” Her eyes flicked to him. “I just want to find my son. I just… I…” She choked up and covered her mouth. “F-Fuck…”

He actually took his jacket off and draped it over her shoulders. “What’s the deal with your son, Boss?”

“I don’t want to talk about it…” She swallowed. “I…” She shook her head. “You’ll hear all about it when I see this… detective in the morning.”

“It is the morning.”

She rolled her eyes. “Later on in the morning, then.” She sighed and pulled his coat around her shoulders. They fell into silence, sitting together, moving only when the sun rose. They made their way back to the Dugout, got their gear—MacCready checked it to ensure nothing had been stolen—and headed out to the detective agency.

Cristina stepped into the tiny, cramped office and peered around. “Excuse me?” she queried, seeing nobody.

From around the back a woman appeared, arching an eyebrow and putting her hands on her hips. Her voice wasn’t unfriendly when she spoke, but… “I’m sorry, but the agency’s closed.”

Panic set in. “Oh, oh no, please, I really need the help—”

“Ma’am, you don’t understand,” the woman interrupted. “The agency’s closed permanently.”

Her blood ran cold and she turned white. “What do you mean…?” Cristina squeaked.

“The detective’s gone missing,” she replied. “And he hasn’t returned for some time.”

“I can find him!” she blurted without thinking. “I’ll find him and bring him back!”

Robert looked at her, crossing his arms. “Boss, we don’t even know where this detective went—”

The woman interrupted. “He went down to the Vault near the Boston Common.”

“Nope!” Robert shook his head. “I am not going there!”

“I am!” Cristina nodded. “I’ll go and find him, I know where the Common is!” She ran out of the agency, leaving Robert and the woman standing there, aghast.

Because what Cristina didn’t know would kill her.


	7. Chapter Six

The Boston Common had been a favourite date spot of Cristina’s, back when she and Nate had met. It was also, _ahem_ , the place her son had been conceived. Admittedly, she wasn’t proud of that fact. But she pushed that thought to the back of her mind as she strode into the ruined park. In the leaf-filled lake there was… something in the centre, one of those old swan boats that had been popular back then.

“We shouldn’t be here.” Robert stopped at the gate, shaking his head. “I’m not going inside.”

She stopped and looked back at him, raising an eyebrow. “This place is legitimately abandoned.” She walked over to the rotunda, ignoring his protest, and looked around. She picked up a magazine and a note sitting on top of a radiation barrel, reading through them and not at all aware of what Robert was so afraid of.

The ground rumbled, and Cristina blinked a few times before turning around.

At the same time, something near smashed through the rotunda, roaring and knocking her back with its arm. She yelled as she slammed into the ground, gasping as the breath rushed from her lungs, squeezing her eyes shut. She opened them just as shadow fell over her face, and her blood ran cold as she saw the monstrosity towering over her, raising a massive anchor above her. Just as the thing brought it down she rolled out of the way and nearly lost Danse’s rifle. It was useless anyway, out of ammo, and her 10mm would do fuck all against… that thing.

“RUN!” Robert screamed as he fired a few shots. They bounced harmlessly off the creature as Cristina scrambled out of the way. It gave chase immediately as she fled outside the gate, stopping just inside the fence and deciding she wasn’t worth the effort. It did, however, throw a rock at her, which smacked her in the back of the head and sent her crashing to the ground. When she didn’t move—in pain, dazed, and confused—the monster returned to the pond and went back to… sleep?

Robert walked over as she managed to push herself into a sitting position. She took one look at him and flinched; his eyes were cold and his lips were pursed. “Um…”

“Next time you do some stupid sh… nnrg… something stupid like that, I’m not saving your hide.”

The words struck her to the core. “Wh… Wait, I… Where did that come from?” she asked, her voice small.

“I _warned_ you not to come to the Common. You’re so stupid. This isn’t the same world you came from, Boss! This world’s got danger everywhere! And payment be damned, I’m not saving you if you decide to run into danger without considering it! I’ve got a young son to go back to!”

She stared at him, her heart hurting at those words. She swallowed thickly around the lump that had formed in her throat, then turned her back to him and clutched the empty laser rifle. “Go back to Goodneighbor.”

“Wh—”

She didn’t let him finish as she whipped around. “GO BACK TO GOODNEIGHBOR!” she exploded. “JUST GO!”

He said nothing, eyeing her before turning and departing. She watched him disappear into the ruined streets before sinking to her knees and covering her face with her hands. She didn’t cry, but she shook, swallowing back each sob as they came.

* * *

As she crept through the unfinished Vault, Cristina gripped her 10mm and trembled. The laser rifle strapped to her back was heavy, but she dared not part with it, especially as she heard the sounds of people talking. Dangerous people: she’d already encountered some crazed, trigger-happy mercs down in the train tunnels leading to the Vault, and inside the Vault itself. She was alone and intimated, bleeding from a wound on her leg, giving her a limp. Her 10mm had only three bullets left. She needed to find another weapon, and quickly, or she’d be dead.

She swallowed as she heard a man talking into a window. She could hear a voice on the other side, too, as she crept closer and aimed at the merc’s head. Her hands wouldn’t stop shaking and she took a deep breath to attempt to steel herself, squeezing the trigger and her eyes shut at the same time. There was a grunt and the sound of a body hitting steel, and she opened one eye to notice the man dead, his brains splattered all over the far world. Her stomach flipped even as she crept over and peered into the window.

She almost leapt back and fell over the railing. It was one of those synths that had attacked her and Danse in ArcJet! But it wasn’t; this one looked somewhat more advanced, and was wearing a detective outfit. She wondered… “Um… sir?”

“They’ll come looking for him, doll,” came the man’s voice, slightly synthetic but not noticeably. “If you’ve come looking for me, I can help you, but not while I’m in here.”

“R-Right.” She hurried over to the terminal and turned it on, but blanched when she noticed. “Oh no, it needs a passcode…”

“There should be one on Dino’s body.”

“Dino…?”

“The guy you shot.”

She bobbed her head and checked the body, finding the password after scrounging through his pockets. She then hacked the terminal and got the door open, stepping in and taking a breath. “Hi there. Are you Mr Valentine?”

He took out a cigarette and lit it, taking a drag. “I sure am. You’re awfully brave to come in here armed with only that.” He nodded at her 10mm.

“I need your help. Figured you’re more likely to help me if I help you first, considering… um… your receptionist let me know you were missing?”

“Ellie’s that worried about me? I’ll have to give her a payrise.” Nick looked at Cristina, furrowing his brows as he noticed she could barely put weight on her leg. “Your knee.”

She looked down at it. “Oh… if I could find some bandages…”

“Do you have any stimpaks?”

“I don’t want to use them in case someone else needs them,” she mumbled. “I’m not really worth that, anyway. Bandages will do.”

Nick paused and eyed her, before snuffing his cigarette on the table. “We better get out of here. I’ll lead you out.”

She nodded, limping over and searching the room. In a filing cabinet she found four laser rounds, and collected them, loading one straight into her rifle. Then she hobbled after Nick. As they weaved and twisted through the Vault, they encountered more and more Triggermen, and Cristina was in a right awful state by the time they found who Nick had been seeking: a woman named Darla, and a gangster-type rotund man ironically named Skinny Malone.

Darla’s face twisted into a grimace as they entered. “What, come back for more?” she snapped.

Cristina blinked at the woman’s attitude as Nick calmly said, “No, I’m here to make sure you go home. Your mother’s worried.” He looked at Skinny Malone. “And you—”

“You should’a put him down when you had the chance!” Darla screeched.

“Darla, honey, I’m dealing with it!” the man finally managed before looking back at Nick. “You shouldn’t have come ‘ere, dick,” he growled. So far, none of them had noticed Cristina, who could see why Darla would have been attracted to Skinny. He was all puff-chested and pompous, in possession of an attitude that said ‘I have a lot of power’ but she could see right through it.

So she spoke up: “Darla, listen to me.” Her voice was gentle but not condescending. “You have a home to go back to. You don’t want to throw your life away with these… these… thugs!” She took a step forward. “Trust me, going down this path, he won’t be able to protect you. He acts all high and mighty but it’s all a ploy to get the girl.”

Darla stared at her, flabbergasted, then looked back at the sheepish mobster. “Y… You’re right,” she managed. “Oh God, what am I doin’ here?” She dropped the baseball bat she was holding. “See ya, Skinny, I’m goin’ home!”

Cristina watched as the young woman took off. Skinny Malone watched her go before turning on Cris like a bat out of hell. “Who do you think you are?!” he cried.

“I don’t want some poor woman throwing her life away with some asshole who won’t treat her right, that’s who I am,” Cris bit back. “I’m leaving.”

Nick nodded. “As am I. No need to deal with this any longer; I found Darla.” He pulled his pipe revolver out of his jacket and spun the barrel. “Now. Skinny.”

“Aww…” The mobster lowered his rifle. “Just get outta here!”

They didn’t wait around. Nick led Cristina out of the Vault, and she took a deep breath as they reached the open air. _Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry_ , she repeated to herself. But the second she looked at Nick the tears welled up and she whimpered, “This shit is fucked.” She sat down on an empty crate and buried her face in her hands. Nick knelt beside her, touching her shoulder.

“Kid?” His voice was soft. When she didn’t respond, he carefully pulled her to her feet and walked back to Diamond City with her, worried.

* * *

Cristina was not okay. She laid on the bed at the Dugout, back turned to the door, blanket pulled over her head. She ignored anyone and everyone who came into her room, not answering Vadim or Yefim’s thick accents, ignoring Nick, ignoring the cleaner. She just wanted to be alone.

When the inn quietened, she sat up and rubbed her face, getting out of bed. She wanted a shower, even if there was no hot water. Making sure to lock her room, she limped down to the communal bathrooms and grabbed a cleanish towel. But just as she went to undress, she heard, “Boss.”

 _Oh boy._ Cris looked over at the man, unable to register any sort of emotion. She just… stared at him. “Don’t call me that.”

“But you hired me?” He put a hand on his hip. “Look, I—”

“Don’t. Contract’s void.”

He stopped and stared at her, opening his mouth but closing it again seconds later. He furrowed his brows, watching this strange woman, before asking, “Are you alright?”

“Stupid question.” She sat down and unlaced her boots, kicking them off. “Look, just… keep the fee, and go. I won’t bug you again.”

“Yeah but I’ll annoy you again.” He sat beside her. “Look. I know what it’s like to lose people. I won’t get into it but…” He took a deep breath. “I want to help.”

She unclipped her Pip-Boy and set it down on her shoes, sniffling. “I don’t think I’ll be finding Shaun. If he’s even still alive he won’t remember me.”

“You can’t say that. There’s still reason to go searching for your kid.”

“Is there? I don’t even know how many years have passed since he was stolen. I was awoken, I watched my husband die, and Shaun was stolen away by that man with the scars… then I was put back on ice.” She covered her face as the tears welled again. “How many years could it have been… over 100? Just under 200?”

Robert frowned. “Put your boots back on. Let’s go see Valentine.”

“What’s the point?”

“Just do it, Boss.”

She huffed, but did so, clipping her Pip-Boy back on and going to her room to collect her gear. She strapped the laser rifle to her back and clipped her 10mm holster to her leg, then followed Robert out of the inn and through the streets of Diamond City. People stared at them, whispering under their breaths, and Cristina hugged herself as they headed into the alleyway.

The agency was in full business again. Nick was sitting at his desk, going over some cases with his receptionist, but he looked up as the pair stepped in. “MacCready,” he greeted, not unkind but certainly wary.

“Valentine.” Robert stepped aside as Cris stepped in.

The old synth gave a smile. “Hey, kid.” He pushed himself to his feet, his metallic fingers clicking on the table as he did. “How are you feeling?”

“Like garbage.” Her tone was dead neutral. “Mr Valentine… when I came to find you, I said I needed some help, as you… may recall?” When he nodded, she was relieved. “I… I need help finding my son.”

“I can certainly try to help.” He gestured at the seat beside her. “Have a seat.”

She did so, setting Danse’s rifle down beside her. Robert leaned on the wall behind her. Nick sat opposite her, getting some things in order, while Ellie fetched a clipboard and a pen from nearby.

Nick cleared his throat. “Now, first thing’s first, how long has your son been missing?”

“I…” Cristina swallowed. “I don’t know. I was frozen when he was taken away.”

The old synth watched her. “Frozen?”

“That’s right. I was frozen in the old Vault just up from Sanctuary Hills, just past Concord.” She looked down at her feet.

“I see,” Nick mused as Ellie scribbled something. “Must have been a lot of work, to get into a sealed Vault and steal a baby.” He leaned back. “Everyone who’s gone that way always says that Vault’s sealed shut forever.”

“I think it was supposed to be.” Cris frowned.

“Can you describe the people who took your son?”

“The woman was wearing some sort of… hazmat suit. White from head to toe. The man she was with was… rougher. Bald or VERY shaved hair, wearing some leather clothing, and he had this… funny armour-looking stuff on his arm. There was an ugly scar on his face, too.” A cold sensation made its way into the pit of her stomach. “But his voice… his voice was rough, like sandpaper being dragged across your face… he looked right at me and said, ‘At least we still have the backup’…”

“You just described someone who lived in the city.”

Cristina’s head shot up, her eyes widening. “Excuse me?!”

“Conrad Kellogg.”

She was in shock. “I need to find him!” She shot to her feet. “Is he still in town?!”

“I don’t know, but his house is still there, locked up.” He stood as well. “I’ll take you there. We may need to break in, though; McDonough won’t give the key up.”

Cristina nodded, and went to head out, Robert following her. Nick spoke to Ellie about something before they left, then led the pair up to the abandoned house. When they arrived, Robert looked down at the city while Cristina and Nick attempted to pick the lock for the door. But Cris wasn’t great at lockpicking, and failed.

They backed off and shared a look. “What now?” Cris lamented.

“You might need to go get the key.”

“You said that was going to be impossible…!”

“We’ll have to try anyway.” Nick rubbed his face. “I’ll stay here and try get in. You have a better chance of getting the key.”

She sighed, but bobbed her head and looked at Robert. “Where’s the mayor’s office?”

He pointed. “All the way up there. I’ll come with.”

They headed over to the other side of the city. Cristina looked up at the stands where the office was, swallowing as she realised how… incredibly high up it was. She didn’t notice that Robert had gone over to a lift until he whistled at her, and gestured at it. She hurried over and stepped onto it, gripping the guard rail as Robert pressed the button. The lift jolted and Cris let out a squeak as it rose into the air.

As soon as the lift reached the platform above, Cristina stepped off and made sure she was on solid ground before whispering, “Damn I hate heights!” She looked over to see a rather… clean woman watching her, a perfectly sculpted eyebrow raised, her lips pursed and her hands folded on the desk. Cristina straightened and approached, before she blurted, “Mayor here?”

“Excuse me…?”

Cristina facepalmed as Robert asked, “We need to talk to the mayor. Is he in?”

The woman brushed her hair back. “He’s not seeing anyone—”

“It’s important. My boss’s son was kidnapped and someone in this city is a suspect.”

Her eyes widened. “Oh my. The mayor’s just in there.” She gestured to the door behind her, and Cris stammered thanks before heading in.

Mayor McDonough was looking out the window, staring down at the city with a watchful gaze. Cristina’s stomach flipped as she found herself in his presence, the hairs rising on the back of her neck. Robert seemed to notice her discomfort; he nudged her and raised an eyebrow. She shook her head and stepped forward. “Mayor McDonough?”

He turned to her. “Ah, Diamond City’s new arrival! Are you enjoying your time here?”

 _Why are you so fake?_ “Um… yes, it’s lovely here, safe. But I came to ask you if I could borrow the key to one Mr Kellogg’s house.”

She almost died under the intense glare he gave her. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but I cannot risk the confidentiality of any resident, former or current. You have to understand—”

“He’s a suspect in the kidnapping of my son!” she interrupted. “Please, I need that key…!”

McDonough’s expression turned to one of pity. “I’m sorry, ma’am.”

 _You are fucking not!_ she wanted to scream. But she said nothing, instead turning on her heel and storming out, her heart hurting and her hope withering away. As the doors swung shut behind her and Robert, however, McDonough’s receptionist stepped over and said, “I… couldn’t help but overhear your conversation, ma’am.”

Cristina looked at her. “Ah… yeah. I guess it was worth a shot.”

“Here.” The woman pressed a key into Cristina’s hand. “I hope you find your son.”

She looked at it, shocked, then smiled as tears welled. “Thank you…?”

“Geneva.”

“Geneva.” Cristina nodded. “Thank you so much. But what if you get caught?”

Geneva smiled. “Oh, silly me, I must have left the key laying around…”

Robert and Cristina thanked her once more before heading back to Kellogg’s house. Cristina brandished the key as they returned to Nick, and he nodded before stepping aside. She unlocked the door and pushed it open, pulling her 10mm out in case there was someone inside. Nick pulled his own revolver out, while Robert kept his hands on his rifle and narrowed his eyes. The three crept in.

Nick grimaced. “Hm… nobody here.”

Robert looked around, moving away from the pair. “There’s a lot abandoned here, though. Ammunition, medical supplies, clothes… kids clothes.” He looked at Cristina. “I think we’re all on top of something here.”

Cristina examined the area. There was nothing of note, but something was off. “There has to be something here… something _more_ …” She looked about, and noticed something odd under the desk. She knelt and crept over, blinking when she found the button, and she pressed it. The wall thunked and slid out of the way, and her eyes widened as a whole other section was revealed. Nick’s breath— _does he even breathe?_ Cristina caught herself wondering—caught as the three carefully approached the room.

There was very little in the way of clues inside. Cigar smoke filled the air and Cristina coughed, pulling her shirt up slightly so it covered her mouth and nose. Nick stepped over and picked up one of the cigars, turning it around so he could get a better look at it. He then held it out to Cristina.

She looked at it, as did Robert. “San Francisco Sunlights.” She looked at the old detective. “These are a very specific brand.”

“And rare,” Nick commented. “They might be our only clue to finding Kellogg.”

“Then we better go.”

Robert said, “We need a way to track him. A scent?”

“That could work,” Cristina mused. “I know a dog, Dogmeat. Maybe we could get him to help us?”

“It’s all we have to go off.”

The three left, after ‘collecting’ what resources they could, and lo and behold Dogmeat was sitting right outside the door. His tail wagged rapidly as he saw Cristina, bounding over to her and getting on his hind legs, licking her face. She laughed and gently pushed him off, to which he barked and wagged his tail even faster.

She knelt down and held out the cigar. “Think you can get a scent off this, boy?”

Dogmeat barked again, then took off towards the entrance of the city. Nick looked at Cristina and Robert, mouthing ‘Go!’ And they did, running after the dog. Cristina’s stomach sank as they left the stadium.

Was she really going to find and confront the man who stole Shaun and killed Nate…?


	8. Chapter Seven

The walk to Fort Hagen had been long and filled with battle. Feral ghouls, mongrel dogs, a couple of deer. There’d even been some sort of armoured crab, which Robert had called a mirelurk. But now, they had arrived at the old military compound, and Cristina was looking up at it with fear and determination. Robert stood beside her, saying nothing as she thought.

“Okay, so we can’t get in through the front door.” Robert looked over as Cristina spoke, although it was obvious she wasn’t speaking to him. “There might be a way in on the roof…”

“We have to contend with the turrets,” he added, and she looked over at him. Dogmeat barked, and she gave a short nod. The mercenary said no more as he pulled away from Cris, walking over and ducking behind something as the turret locked onto his presence and opened fire. He cocked his rifle, aimed, squeezed the trigger. The turret exploded and sent shrapnel raining down, as well as some bullets. Cris collected them, and took a deep breath before aiming her brand new rifle—a hunting rifle like Robert’s—right at another one, but she wasn’t holding it properly, too scared of the noise. He looked over and his eyes widened. “HEY, NO, DON’T HOLD IT LIKE TH—”

“Huh?” She looked over and accidentally pressed down. The rifle cracked and recoiled, slamming right into her eyebrow and knocking her down. She didn’t make a sound, blinking up at the sky, aware of a wet warmth trickling down her face. Robert appeared in her vision. “Oof.”

“You, Boss, are a tool.” He helped her to sit up and pressed cloth to the wound, not reacting when she hissed in pain. “I know it’s loud but you get used to it.”

“Your rifle isn’t that loud,” she complained.

“Mine’s equipped with a suppressor.”

“I should’ve remembered that.” She pushed herself up, swaying a bit, her head spinning and throbbing. Robert made sure she would stay upright before getting Dogmeat to stay with her, and creeping off. Small explosions rocked the Fort as Cristina tried to follow him, but her head swum and she ended up sitting back down, touching her new wound and wincing. Robert returned to her when he’d dealt with the last turret, squatting in front of her.

“You sure you’re okay to keep going?”

“Yeah.” She took a deep breath and stood again, wobbling only slightly this time. “I’ll be okay. I’m so close…”

Robert studied her, but said nothing, instead helping her to make her way to Fort Hagen’s roof. Both moved quietly, quickly, with Robert sticking close to his boss as she fumbled with the hatch on the way in. She disappeared inside and he followed her, staying close as she began to sweep through the rooms, keeping low and watching the patrolling synths.

The pair fought their way through, weaving in and out of rooms, breaching the bowels of the pre-war fort. And as they walked into the lowest level… “Well, if it isn’t the frozen TV dinner.”

She stopped dead, her chest tightening, her eyes widening. They flicked around the room as Robert collided with her back, grunting and backing off, but she didn’t hear him if he said anything. The voice had sent her flying back to that day, or night, or whatever it had been. The day that sick, cruel killer had stolen her baby, killed Nate, looked right into her eyes and called her a backup. She swallowed around the lump that had formed in her throat, and hefted Righteous Authority. The synths’ ammo was in her hands now, and she was glad she had the backup. A fight was in her near future, a fight she wasn’t sure she would win.

“Robert… stay back when we find Kellogg.”

Her voice didn’t sound like hers, not even to Cristina herself, and Robert looked at her. She was staring up at the speaker in the corner, blue eyes hard as ice, and when she pulled herself away her stride was filled with a vengeful purpose.

* * *

It was close, and she could feel it. As she picked the lock of the armoury door, trying to steel herself for confronting Kellogg, confronting the man who’d ruined her life and stolen her family from her, she took comfort in the fact that if she died, at least she’d be with Nate again.

 _No, I can’t die, not here_ , she thought as she unlocked the door, pushing it open and stepping in. Robert was waiting a couple of rooms back, albeit reluctantly and unhappily. But she’d begged and he’d obeyed. He could understand why she wanted to be alone to do this.

She collected the ammo scattered around, a few grenades too. But just as she turned to leave, the cannon resting on a shelf caught her eye. It was large and looked heavy, but for whatever reason it intrigued her, and she approached it. Slinging her rifle on her back, she reached up and pulled the cannon down, noticing it was already loaded and primed. _And_ there was a small nuke nearby, the same sort of one already loaded into the cannon.

 _I could win with this…_ She hefted it, nodded, and left the armoury, heading over to the door separating her and… _him_. She took a deep breath, adjusted the cannon, then kicked the door open and stepped in only to face… synths, aiming guns at her, their yellow eyes unblinking and staring directly into her soul. She froze and her mind began to race. Had she made a mistake, was she about to die before ever confronting her husband’s killer—

“Weapons down.” The harsh voice was both relieving and rage-inducing. From behind one of the cubicles Conrad Kellogg sauntered out, his hands up, revolver catching the light. “Let’s have a chat, just you and I.”

As soon as the words left his mouth Cristina exploded. “WHERE’S MY SON YOU BASTARD?!”

Kellogg’s mouth quirked upwards, a dark gleam to his eyes. “He’s… safe. And not here.”

“Tell. Me. Where. You. Took. Him.” Cristina shifted the cannon, her grip tightening, her knuckles whitening. “WHERE. IS. MY. BABY?!”

“In the hands of the Institute.” Kellogg’s face didn’t change, that smile never left. Cris wanted to knock it off his face. Her heart broke upon hearing his words and her blood boiled. She didn’t even let Kellogg open his mouth to say anything else; she screamed in rage and pulled the cannon’s trigger.

The bomb whistled as it was catapulted out. Kellogg yelled and tried to dodge, but the nuke rushed through the air and hit the cubicle wall slightly to his right. The explosion ripped through the room, heat blasting Cris’s face, the shockwave emanating from the collision flinging her backwards into the door. She yelled as pain rushed through her, and she faceplanted the ground as her ears rang. _Ow ow ow ow…_

She struggled to her feet, the Geiger counter on her Pip-Boy clicking gently. She could barely hear it through the ringing. She stumbled over to the body of her son’s kidnapper, and… there was no glee. There was no relief that he was dead. No delight. Her chest ached and she sunk to her knees, tears welling in her eyes, dripping down her cheeks. She searched Kellogg’s body—how it was mostly intact she didn’t know, the blast should have incinerated him—and found a few things. Implants, mostly, which she managed to dislodge with a bit of wriggling. Those she pocketed, before noticing half of Kellogg’s head had been… split… open.

Her stomach flipped and she swallowed thickly, catching a glimpse of something… strange inside his head. She stared at it, unwilling, but held her breath and rooted through his head. It was squishy, wet, and she gagged as she pulled her hand free without what she saw. _Fuck my life…_

It took her a while, but eventually she held the strange cybernetic in her hand, and upon realising… “OH MY GOD!!” she squealed, dropping it and scrambling away. “FUCKING _EW_!”

“What are you doing?”

The voice made her look over. Robert was standing at the door, green in the face, staring at her with his disgust written on his face. She gave a nervous, sheepish smile before picking the implant up between her thumb and pointer finger, holding it away from her face as she stood.

“That man had a bunch of implants. I couldn’t get anything out of him, so maybe these might hold some clues.”

“That’s… gross.”

“I’m also going to pinch his clothes.”

Robert squinted. “You… You know what, I’m not questioning that.”

“They’re better than mine!” She stripped Kellogg down, biting her cheek as she pulled the clothing off. _Sorry. But you’re a dick anyway_. She swiftly changed, ducking behind a cubicle to do so, then peered out and noticed Robert near her cannon. “Oh, I dropped it, is it broken?”

“Where did you find this? And did you use it in close quarters?”

“It was in the armoury outside, and yes.”

He approached her and checked her over. “How in the world did you not die? Or lose any of your senses?”

She caught the worry hidden deep in his voice, but something niggled at her. Did he care, truly, or was it just because she was his boss? She shrugged as an answer, and began to search around the room, looking for something, _anything_ that would help her get to Shaun. Or the Institute… she needed to get into the Institute.

Even if it killed her. She had to get in.


	9. Chapter Eight

Leaving Fort Hagen to return to Goodneighbor had been more fraught with danger than the initial trip. More feral ghouls, Raiders, even the occasional Super Mutant had crossed their paths. But the most danger they’d been in was from the synths. They’d pinned Cristina and Robert down and only a well-tossed frag grenade had saved their lives. From Robert, not Cris, because the one she’d thrown had nearly blown them up and not the synths.

Her new clothing had served her well. She’d been shot with a few rounds of laser fire and hadn’t even felt them, thanks to Kellogg’s outfit, and while she felt a little bad for robbing him of his clothes she knew she’d made a good decision. Maybe not morally, but she’d learned that the Commonwealth Wasteland had less morals than her own old man did.

Right now, the pair were walking down an old crumbling road. Both walked in silence, although occasionally Robert quipped about areas they passed or made jokes to try and cheer Cristina up. She laughed at some, was baffled by others, and many of his quips made her chest tighten as memories of a better time flashed unbidden in her mind. She said little as they walked herself.

“You’re awfully quiet,” Robert mused, pulling Cris from her thoughts. She looked over at him and tilted her head, especially as his eyes flicked to her and he said, “You alright?”

She bit her cheek and looked away, her grip tightening on Righteous Authority. “I… I’m fine.” Robert raised an eyebrow. Internally, Cris cursed; she hadn’t even convinced herself with that lie, what made her think she’d manage to convince anyone else? “Alright, I’m not fine.”

“With?”

“With killing the man who took Shaun and killed Nate.” She looked at the ground, at the crumbling asphalt and the weeds poking up through the cracks. “I… I have no satisfaction from it. I just feel even more lost.” She ran a hand through her hair, internally screaming as a few hundred oily strands came out and stuck to her fingers. “I didn’t… Killing him didn’t bring Nate back, or Shaun…” The tears dripped down her cheeks, splashing onto the ground. She shook, stopped, and swallowed around the thick lump in her throat. Robert approached and put a hand on her shoulder as she whimpered, “I thought… I thought it would help.”

Robert didn’t know what to say to help Cris as she began to sob. He just stayed with her, getting her sitting down on the rusted shell of a pre-war car, keeping guard as she set her gun down and hugged herself. Eventually she fell silent, swallowing, rubbing her face. She did not get up, instead staring down at the wedding band on her finger and the cloth-wrapped bit of brain she’d scooped out of Kellogg’s head.

A gasp distracted her from her thoughts, and she looked up to see Robert staring up at the sky. She followed his gaze and her eyes widened. Pushing herself to her feet, Cristina watched the airship as it flew overhead, dropping Vertibirds from it every so often as it cruised. Her Pip-Boy bleeped to alert her to a new signal, and she clicked it without taking her eyes off the airship.

“People of the Commonwealth, do not interfere, our intentions are peaceful. We are... the Brotherhood of Steel,” was the announcement that blared through the radio. Robert hissed and mumbled something under his breath, something she didn’t catch. Danse’s people… these were Danse’s people! But why were they here…? Had Danse’s team managed to get a signal across…?

Robert startled her from her reverie. “Boss, we should go.”

“Why?”

“Because the Brotherhood’s bad news.”

She studied him, unsure if he was serious or not. From what she’d seen, they were alright, your stock-standard military faction. But she didn’t question this, not now, instead continuing to follow Robert to the ruins of Boston. Already there were armoured soldiers beginning to patrol, having been dropped off by the many Vertibirds leaving the airship. She noticed that there was one or two heading towards Cambridge as well, but the airship itself never stopped, blaring its message over the Commonwealth Wasteland as it made its way towards the Boston Airport.

* * *

Nick sat back in his chair, studying the pair. Cristina had set the mod she’d pulled from Kellogg’s skull on the table, sitting atop a cloth, and had taken the seat opposite him. Robert was leaning against the wall, brows furrowed, waiting for the old detective to say… something.

“Why?” he asked.

“Because it looked like it could help. He didn’t tell me anything.”

“So you stole a part of the man’s BRAIN.”

She nodded. “Yes, yes I did. But if there’s some way we can access the memories… I mean, I know it sounds impossible, but—”

“But it’s not,” Robert interrupted. “Nick, we both know about the Memory Den.” He walked over and put a hand on Cris’s shoulder. “I’ll take her to Goodneighbor.”

“I’ll come with you. Amari knows me, but not you.”

Cris brushed her fridge out of her eyes, wincing as she grazed the fresher scar on her brow. “Then what are we waiting for?” She pushed herself to her feet, cringing as the chair legs screeched on the floor. “I’m no doctor but this brain bit will begin to rot eventually.” As she spoke she picked up Kellogg’s implant, wrapping it back up and putting it in her pocket. Nick stood as well, dusting his coat off, while Robert picked up his gun and slung it on his back. The three headed out, Nick leading the way, Cristina sticking close to Robert. She was too conscious of the implant in her pocket, squishing against her skin, and—

She shook her head and tried not to think about it. Instead, as the trio left Diamond City she directed her attention to the massive blimp-looking thing now tethered to the air control tower of the airport. She wondered if she should go back to Cambridge now that the Brotherhood’s backup had arrived… Maybe after she got the information she needed.

* * *

Goodneighbor was surprisingly quiet as the three arrived. A fight with a couple of super mutants had left the trio beaten and bloody, none more so than Cris, who had learned an important lesson in ammunition conservation. Her hunting rifle and Danse’s laser rifle were little more than heavy trinkets right now, and she didn’t know if the Assaultron shopkeeper—who unnerved her more than she cared to admit—stocked appropriate rounds. The Fat Man cannon on her back was just as useless, and her 10mm pistol had done little against the mutants’ thick hides.

Nick looked at her. “Did you want to restock on ammo now, or—”

“Let’s just get this over with.” Blood was soaking through the cloth the implant was wrapped in, and therefore seeping through her clothing and onto her skin. Everything about that screamed _CONTAMINATION HAZARD_ to her, and she desperately wanted a hot shower, but she hadn’t voiced it. Didn’t need to, apparently, for Nick raised an eyebrow and chuckled as he led them towards the back part of the settlement. Cris blanched as she laid eyes on the large sign marking the Memory Den, and her stomach sank to her toes.

She swallowed and followed them inside. The interior of the building was surprisingly lavish, only offset by the series of odd pods on either side of the carpeted walkway. A blonde woman lying on a chaise lounge in the middle of the room shifted, startling Cris. Robert set a hand on her arm as Nick greeted, “Irma.”

“Well, hello darling. Back again so soon?” Irma purred, her voice simultaneously sultry and aloof.

“Not for me. Is Amari in?”

His answer disappointed her, but Irma directed them all to a flight of stairs leading into a basement, and Nick thanked her before leading Cris and Robert over. Cris’s stomach flipped as they descended into a room filled with two pods and several computer systems. At a terminal stood a woman in a lab coat, and upon Nick clearing his throat she turned around, her eyes sharp but kind. Cris shrunk behind Robert just a little bit as Amari said, “Ah, Mr Valentine.” Her voice was only slightly accented.

“Doctor,” Nick greeted. “We need your help with a case of mine.”

Amari pursed her lips and cast her attention past Robert, to Cristina. “I’m guessing this woman?” she queried. Nick nodded and looked back, his yellow eyes strangely comforting. Cristina stepped out a little and watched as Amari had to tilt her head up just the slightest bit. “Good afternoon, ma’am. How can I help you?”

 _This woman’s a total stranger and I’m not even sure she can help but it’s not like I’ve got anything else to lose_ , Cris thought as she pulled out the implant. “I… I need help looking for my son and I think this might be the only way I can find him.” She held out the little bundle. Everyone looked at it as Amari reached over and plucked it from Cris’s palm, not even flinching at how moist it was. She unwrapped it and examined it, her eyes betraying none of her thoughts.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t help you.”

Cristina’s heart sank to her toes. Tears began to prick in her eyes and she swallowed around the lump that formed in her throat. “Th-There has to be some w-way…” The cloth fell from her hand and she hugged herself, looking down. “There’s…”

Nick spoke. “Amari, what if there was a… volunteer, perhaps, to take the implant temporarily? Like some sort of conduit?”

“That could work,” Amari mused. “But—”

“It’s the only option we have. I’ll volunteer for this.”

Robert looked at him but didn’t give his thoughts, instead looking over at Cris and saying, “Guess we have a way to find your kid after all.”

Cris didn’t feel too joyous. But she looked at Nick and whispered, “Thank you… I appreciate this… I do.”

Nick nodded, and followed Amari over to one of the pods. He sat in it and Amari carefully installed the implant, warning him of some side effects that could occur. Then she laid him down and closed the pod, turning it on before directing Cris to do the same in the next pod. Her stomach flipped again and she all of a sudden wanted to flee, but she forced herself to lay down in the pod. And her heart began to race as the lid sealed shut. Memories flashed behind her eyes of Nate putting his hand to the glass of his ‘decontamination’ pod just as the frost began to settle in. Then there was the sound of a gunshot and a gruff face looking at her, speaking about a backup as a figure in a hazmat suit took off with her baby—

And then there was something else.

Cristina found herself standing in the middle of nothing. Strange translucent synapse-looking… things floated all around her, and she looked down to find she was standing on one. Amari’s voice coming from everywhere and nowhere startled her: “The memories are segmented, but I think I have recovered the ones you need.”

“Okay,” Cris whispered, taking a hesitant step forward. When she didn’t fall into the abyss below her feet she grew a bit more confident, drifting through the memories that appeared as she did. Her heart began to hurt for the man she had sought as she found out about his life, about the trials and tribulations he had gone through, how he’d ended up in the Vault same as her, taking her little boy, shooting Nate… She found herself stopping only briefly, looking in at herself, pounding on the Vault door, mouth moving but no words audible. She could not bring herself to look at Nate’s body. Not again.

Finally, she found herself in the old house in Diamond City. But this time, there was a boy sitting on the floor, all warm black hair and blue eyes. Cris’s eyes widened and she scrambled over, kneeling to get a better look, her heart soaring. “Shaun…!”

A voice caught her attention and she whipped around, hand reaching for a pistol that wasn’t there. She blinked before she remembered that none of this was real, that all of this was the memories of a dead man. For all she knew this could have been several years ago and Shaun could be dead…

The dark-skinned man talking to Kellogg spoke about someone named Doctor Virgil. Cris committed the name to memory, especially when she heard that he had left the Institute. ‘Escaped’ was the word they used, escaped to a place called the Glowing Sea. And Kellogg had been tasked with hunting him down? _Did he get to Virgil?_ Cris found herself asking as the dark-skinned man set a file on the table and took Shaun away in a flash of light. _Wait!_ “Shaun!”

And then the memory was gone.

Cris shook as the pod hissed and opened. Robert appeared in her vision, reaching in, pulling her out. She flinched at his touch and shook as the tears threatened to spill over. Robert guided her over to a chair beside the pod and kept a hand on her shoulder, which helped to ground her, and she trembled as she whispered, “Doctor Virgil. I have to find Doctor Virgil.”

“You won’t.”

The voice came from Nick but it made her stiffen. It was cold, cold as the Vault, and like _sandpaper being dragged across your face_. Slowly she lifted her head just as Robert looked over his shoulder at the old synth. His yellow eyes were sharp and _they’re not Nick’s eyes_. The smirk on Nick’s face didn’t belong to him either, it was the smirk of someone who knew they’d won, who knew they’d gotten under your skin.

Cris pushed herself to her feet and rose to her full height. Her fist clenched as Robert backed away, eyes widening. Nick’s—no, not Nick’s, but _Kellogg_ ’s—eyes widened as well as Cris stalked towards him. “Watch me, you motherfucker!” she snarled, grabbing the synth’s detective coat and gripping it as tight as possible, so tight her knuckles whitened. “I will find Virgil, I will get into that damned Institute you’ve tried to keep me from! _I will save my son!_ ”

Kellogg’s ugly laughter filled her ears and she wished she could sock him in the face, but she didn’t wish to harm Nick. “Your son doesn’t want saving. He’s fine, he’s safe.”

“Shut up! Get out of Nick’s head! Go away!”

“You know I’m right.” Nick’s damaged, skeletal hand wrapped around Cris’s wrist and ripped it away from him. She stumbled back and put a hand on her pistol, but Kellogg merely laughed again and hissed, “What are you going to do, shoot me? Shoot _Nick_?” He pulled out Nick’s pipe revolver, spun the cylinder, and aimed at her head. “You’re a soft pre-war woman. You’re not capable of doing what you have to. If you go to find Virgil you’ll die, and you know what? Shaun won’t even miss you.”

“Th-That’s not true!”

“He has never asked about you, you know.”

“Don’t listen to him!” Amari from somewhere behind Cris urged, but her voice sounded so far away…

Kellogg smirked as Cris’s hand fell to her side. “He’s fully capable of asking about you. But _he doesn’t even know you exist_.”

Cris stared at Kellogg-Nick. She didn’t fall, didn’t talk. She just stared. His smirk never left his face until the cruel expression in his eyes vanished, and Nick blinked a few times as he came back to himself, putting a hand to his face and rubbing the bridge of his nose. He mumbled something as Amari went to his side and checked him, but Cris didn’t hear it as she turned and left the basement room. The air was thick and cloying now, she had to get out, she needed fresh air—

Robert caught her arm just as she had nearly made it out of the Den. “Boss—”

“I have to get out—”

“Stop.” There was something to his voice, something that made her stop indeed. She looked at him, and noticed the expression on his face, the sadness, the _sympathy_. “Boss. You can’t listen to him, okay?” His hand slid off her arm to her hand. His was warm and calloused, but it comforted her nonetheless. “Whatever he’s saying about your kid, don’t listen. No matter what, your son wants to see you again.”

“And h-how can you be so sure?” she whispered.

“Because I just… know.” He pulled his hand from hers just as Nick and Amari came up the stairs, and Cris sniffled a bit, wiping her nose and her eyes. The two approached and Nick looked Cris up and down, furrowing his brows.

“Cristina?”

“Yes, Nick?” Her voice was hoarse.

“Is everything okay? Did you find out what you needed?”

“I… found out there’s a guy called Virgil. He’s from the Institute. But he’s in a place called the Glowing Sea.”

“You can’t go there how you are.” Nick frowned. “You’ll need radiation protection.”

“Oh, so… so what do I do…?”

Amari frowned. “Well, you can either get a suit of Power Armour, but they’re few and far between and the only reliable source of them is the Brotherhood of Steel.” Her lip curled very slightly when she said that, but it was gone as quickly as it had come. “Or you can find a pre-war hazmat suit, which would arguably be rarer.”

Cris blinked. “I own a suit of Power Armour, but it’s back at home…”

“You’re friends with the Brotherhood, yeah?” Robert questioned. “I mean, that laser rifle there, that’s one of their signatures.”

She looked at Righteous Authority. “I guess, but I’m friends with two thirds of a single squad.” Running a hand through her hair, she tried to think of something, but… “I suppose I will need to meet the Brotherhood of Steel.”

“Be careful, Cristina,” Nick urged.

“I will be.” She took a breath, steeling herself. “Ready to go?” she asked Robert.

“Ready as I’ll ever be to meet the Brotherhood.”

“Then let’s get this show on the road.”


End file.
